I Love You
by Damaged Ghost of an Angel
Summary: What do you do when 'those three words are said too much and not enough? What do you do when the whole world seems to close you out? 58


I Love You

By: Dark Hearted Shinobi

Pairing: 58

I'd recommend listening to "Chasing Cars" by Snow Patrol while reading this.

* * * * *

I hate Valentines Day.

I truly hate Valentines Day. It has to be the worst holiday all year. Well . . . maybe White Day, but Valentines Day is worse. The cheesy red and pink decorations, the mockery of the heart, the fat babies dressed with bows and arrows.  
I do not let any of this show on my face, however. I keep my smile on, always smiling.

_I love you._

I hear a girl say it to her boyfriend and I wonder 'what is love?'

I head into the supermarket, walking up and down the aisles, the basket hooked over my arm. I fill it with the necessities: food, toilet paper, toothpaste. As I continue through the store, I remember that I needed to pick up more High-Lites. I stop by the cigarette counter, picking up two cartons. The young woman behind the counter smiles brightly at me and I smile back, hiding my true thoughts behind my own smile. I notice that red velvet cake is on sale and slide one into my basket. It's his favorite, after all.

I check out, having to endure the clerk's question, "What? No card for your sweetheart?"

No. I don't have a sweetheart. At least. . . I don't think he knows I like him. I smile at her anyway, laughing a bit. "We broke up" I say. Yeah. We broke up when she died. I am not going to say that, though.

I back through the town, back past the decorations, ignoring the couples kissing on the street corners, ignoring the whispers my youkai-tuned hearing can pick up.

_I love you._

Those words . . . they are said too much.

And yet . . . they are not said enough. (1)

As I exit the town, the skies, which are grey and heavy, release their hold on the rain, letting it pour down on me. I swear softly, running through the mud and the rain, hearing no sound other than the pounding of the rain on the ground, the trees, the splash of my feet. By the time I reach the small house, I am drenched to the bone.

The house is blazing with light, warm, comforting. And he is there, standing in the doorway, a cigarette held in those long fingers. He comes out into the rain, sloshing through the puddles in his bare feet, staining the cuffs of his jeans with mud. He takes the bags from my hands, carrying them into the house. He sets them on the table, tossing me a towel. I realize it is warm and smile, starting to dry off. I slip my shoes off, leaving them by the door. "The bath is ready for you, 'Kai."

"You already prepared it?" I ask, walking into the main house. He is in the kitchen by now, starting to put things away. He finds the red velvet cake and grins.

"Yup. Hey, my favorite. Thanks. Hurry up. The water's gonna get cold." He pushes me out of the kitchen and I raise one eyebrow at his actions. He's never this pushy. I brush it off as the thought of a warm bath calls to me. I step into the bathroom to find it full of warm steam that embraces me. My glasses fog up and I set them on the sink counter. I do not really need them, after all. I smile to myself, peeling off the wet clothes that stick to my thin form. I slide into the bathtub, relaxing in the warmth. The scar. . . my scar . . . is purple with the cold, but as I return to warmth, it fades back to a pale peach. I let the tension drain from my form as I warm up.

The door slides open and he walks in, gathering up my wet clothes, leaving me a pile of dry clothes and more towels. "Hurry up, man. I'm starvin'."

"All right." I laugh at him. "You sound like Goku."

"Gah. Don't compare me to that monkey." He mumbles, walking back out, shutting the door behind him.  
I laugh again, reluctantly pulling myself from the heat of the water. I pick up a towel, finding it warm. As the water drains, I dry off and get dressed. He's given me good clothes: a pair of loose pants that cover my feet and a nice shirt. I wonder why he chose these clothes, but brush it off, leaving the bathroom. I have to prepare dinner. I do not want to, but I know I must.

I walk into the small room that doubles as our living room and dining room and stop, my jaw dropping slightly. The entire room has been transformed. Candles are set on every surface, their flickering light giving the room a warm, welcoming glow. The table in the middle of the room is set with a white tablecloth and silver place ware. I smile when I notice there are real cloth napkins under the fork and knife. The finishing touch is added by the silver candelabra in the center of the table. I look over as he comes out of the kitchen, carrying a tray with several covered plates. The light sparkles off of his crimson hair and it is transformed from blood to something beautiful, a shimmering sunset. He sets the plates down, whipping the covers off. Each plate holds a delicacy, most of them my favorite dishes. "Gojyo. . ."

"Sit down." He orders, setting the tray and covers back into the kitchen. When he comes out, I notice he's changed and look at what he's wearing: loose jeans and a tight black shirt.

"Did you make all of this?"

He looks away from me, rubbing one hand in the back of his hair, his cheeks flushing red. "Uh. . . no."

I look up at him, smiling. Does he know how beautiful he looks right now, standing a few feet from me, looking down and to one side, his long fingers tangled in his crimson locks, a flush of pink lighting his cheeks? "It's fine. I know you can't cook."

"That's true." He laughs, sitting across from me. He starts to serve me and I stare at him.

"Why?"

"Why what?" He replies, handing me back my plate.

"Why all of this?"

"Because you deserve it." The red tinges his cheeks again and he starts to fill his plate with food to distract himself. "I know th' shit you've been through. You deserve at least one happy valentines day."

I smile, beginning to eat. The smile I wear now is different from the smile I wore earlier. It is a true smile, showing the happiness I have in my soul at this moment. He knows this, for he returns it, his ruby eyes lighting with happiness. "Thank you, Gojyo."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Eat. It'll get cold."

I know I have embarrassed him and laugh a bit. "What do you have prepared for after the dinner?"

"Well. . . there's dessert or entertainment."

"Dessert?" I ask coyly, guessing at what the entertainment might be, hoping.

"Yup. Raspberry tiramisu."

"That sounds good."

"I hope so. It looked good, so I got it."

"And entertainment?"

He grins at this, his eyes gaining what I like to call 'the look.' He wears it when he is hitting on the ladies and I laugh at him. "Oh. . . you know. The bedroom type."

"Well. We should skip dessert and go straight to entertainment."

"That sounds good to me."

We both finish our dinner, the conversation light, my asking about his gambling, his asking about my teaching. We laugh at Goku's antics as we talk about my teaching, then cringe as he tells me how much he lost today. It is more than a meal between friends. . . It is. . . a meal between lovers. When we finish, he stands, pulling me back into the bedroom, singing to me.

"Some day, when I'm awfully low, when the world is cold, I will feel a glow, just thinking of you and the way you look tonight." He croons at me. (3)

I recognize the tune, a song from the American singer, Frank Sinatra and I shake my head. "He's singing to a woman, you know."

"'Course I know that. I just thought ya'd like it."

I laugh at him, kissing him. He kisses me back, returning my passion. I can taste the chocolate and cigarettes that is his flavor. I am slightly surprised. I didn't know what he would taste like. I pull back. "I didn't think you knew."

"Oh. . . I've known for a while."

"Then why. . ."

"Because I was planning this." He grins coyly at me, dragging me into the bedroom.

Several hours later, we lay side by side on the bed, panting slightly. He has a cigarette hanging from his lips again and I sigh. "Those will kill you."

"Yeah, and? As long as I die laughing, I don't care."

"Ah." I grab his box, pulling one out, lighting it. I cough a bit when I first inhale, but then get used to it, lying beside him, smoking. As he wraps an arm around my thin shoulders, a line from a song resounds in my head "I don't quite know how to say how I feel. Those three words are said too much and not enough." (3) I blow out the mouthful of smoke I have inhaled and look over at him. "I. . . love you."

He stares at me, scarlet eyes wide. "'Kai. . ."

I suddenly realize my mistake. He loves no one. I'm just. . . a conquest to him. "If you don't love me, I understand." I push away from him, struggling to free myself from the covers. Strong arms suddenly wrap around my shoulders and I freeze.

"Hey. I love ya too." His deep voice purrs in my ear. "Ya just surprised me. I didn't think you'd say that. Not after. . ."

He doesn't finish, but I know what he means. "No. I didn't think I'd be able to say that either. But I do. I love you."

"Good." He smiles, sliding out of bed, pulling his boxers on. "Now. . . how about some dessert?"

I laugh, shaking my head, following him.

You know, maybe. . . on second thought. . .

_I love you._

Valentines Day isn't all that bad.

I think I could start to like this holiday.  
Just maybe.

_I love you._

* * * *

A/N: So. . . I started out listening to "Chasing Cars," but then I went and listened to a bunch of love songs, including Frank Sinatra. If you want my entire play list for this story, ask in a review.

So. . . written at 2:00 am. . . I have no idea what I was thinking. I wanted to do fluff. I think Hakkai's ooc. Ah… if ya'll like it, let me know. Andd… I was thinking of doing a mirror fic or a mirror chapter from Gojyo's view, but I dunno. What do you think?

Thank you for reading! ^^

"Chasing Cars"—Snow Patrol (Paraphrased)

"The Way You Look Tonight"—Frank Sinatra

"Chasing Cars"—Snow Patrol


End file.
